


Hermione's Masked Rendezvous

by Duchess_of_Strumpetness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating with permission, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_of_Strumpetness/pseuds/Duchess_of_Strumpetness
Summary: Hermione attends the 10th Anniversary Gala Halloween Ball at Hogwarts and, with her husband’s blessing, makes one of her schoolgirl fantasies a reality. Which of her former schoolmates did she used to watch across the great hall? Also, why are they headed down to the dungeons?Thank you to my beta, GeekMom13 for their time and work on this story.





	Hermione's Masked Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekMom13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekMom13/gifts).



> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/41529282@N02/39856016894/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 

**I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE SHARED WITHOUT MY CONSENT**

Hermione walked into the Great Hall of Hogwarts and gasped. The elves had decorated it for the Annual Halloween Ball, and it sparkled. Hundreds of candles and Jack O’ Lanterns floated around the room. The sky was charmed to look like a night sky, and thousands of stars lit up the room. The long, house tables she remembered had been removed and dozens of round ones, set with white tablecloths and fine china, filled the space.

“Good evening Miss Granger,” a deep baritone greeted her and Hermione smiled.

“Hello Sir Nicholas, although it's Mrs Granger-Weasley now,” Hermione replied proudly to his delight.

“I always knew that Mr Weasley was a smart boy.” Sir Nicholas replied and floated off to greet some more guests. Hermione always did have a soft spot for the resident Gryffindor ghost.

“Nice to know someone thought I was smart back then,” Ron said walking up behind his wife and kissing her on the cheek. “The Hall looks beautiful.” At Hermione’s nod, he lowered his voice and whispered in her ear “So do you.” Goosebumps prickled her skin at his words.

Hermione knew a lot of people wondered how she and Ron worked, they were completely different in so many ways, but that was the challenge. Sure, they fought, yelled, and screamed, but the makeup sex was spectacular. Something else very few people knew - Ron was kinky as hell, often talking her into things she would never have imaged - he always seemed to know exactly what she would enjoy. His outrageous suggestion before they’d left the house hadn’t left her head yet and trying to be discreet; she gazed around the Great Hall.

“He’s talking to Professor McGonagall,” Ron whispered in her ear, lightly tracing patterns along her side, to Hermione’s blush as she sought out the tall form speaking with the Headmistress. The past ten years had been kind to him; he’d grown taller, easily the same height as Ron and Harry’s six feet, although not as broad across the shoulders. He’d carried his slim build from school into adulthood. The severe black formal wear and crisp white shirt showed off his features to perfection, which Hermione was sure he was well aware. A thick strip of black lace obscured the top of his face.  

“Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Double, double, toil and trouble; something wicked this way comes!” Ron whispered in her ear, watching a light flush of arousal colour his wife’s cheeks “The evening is yours, my beautiful wife, I want to hear all about it in our bed later tonight,” with that, he casually strolled away, leaving Hermione to her lustful thoughts. Not too many women had a husband who gave his permission for her to pursue another man for the night.  

Hermione loved that fact that tonight she was anonymous in the room, for once not part of the _Golden Trio_ or a high-ranking ministry official; she was a woman on the prowl.

Her midnight dark strapless dress clung to her curves, the back of it sweeping the floor in her wake, the front showing off her crystal-adorned shoes while an ornate gold Venetian mask hid her features. The invitation has been explicit with the dress code. Black formal wear only, masks of your choosing.

Stopping to speak to Seamus and Dean on their impending marriage and to greet Professor Flitwick, Hermione slowly made her way around the room over to Professor McGonagall. For a woman of her age, she looked amazing, her formal black robe swept the floor, and an elaborate red and gold mask covered her features, but Hermione would know that fond smile anywhere.

Hermione kissed her former head of house’s cheek in greeting and then turned to the three men standing nearby. Their immaculate pureblood manners well ingrained all three bowed to her and bestowed a kiss to her hand, all except _one_. His lips lingered, a slight brush of his tongue. Hermione wasn’t sure if the rest of the gathered group heard her small gasp, but by the mischief dancing behind his mask, he certainly did. Bestowing a stern look that had her children behaving themselves; he merely smirked at her, not at all bothered by the non-verbal reprimand.

He’d always known his effect on women, even back in school, he’d had a reputation of a sex god, and Hermione knew plenty of girls who’d spent a night in the Slytherin’s bed. Looking at him now, Hermione honestly wasn’t sure she would have survived the experience.

“Is your husband here tonight?” he asked, handing her a glass of champagne he’d plucked from a passing waiter’s tray. The dark timbre of his voice setting her nerves on edge and dampening her knickers, her dress rubbing against her hardening nipples.

“Yes, he’s talking to Harry and Ginny,” Hermione replied, not bothering to look, she’d tell Ron all about it later.

“Really? If you were my wife I’d not let you out of my sight,” he replied, boldly letting his gaze roam her body. _Let the games begin_ Hermione couldn’t help thinking as he cheekily saluted her with his champagne glass. Minerva had left them, gone to speak with some other former students Hermione figured, but the conversation with the three Slytherin's was far more entertaining, the not so subtle innuendo had her laughing at their boldness.

Far too soon, dinner was called and, as they deliberately had not been given assigned seats, preferring to let people sit where they wished, Hermione found herself the only lion on a table of snakes.

Astoria was her usual snobby self, nothing had changed on that front but Millicent was no longer the sizeable bullish girl Hermione remembered, she filled out her evening dress in all the right places. Their masks did nothing to hide their identities. Hermione tried to hide her smirk as they both linked their arms through their husbands, staking their claims. _Don’t worry ladies; your men are safe_ Hermione thought and tried to suppress her shiver as his hand faintly brushed her shoulder as he helped her into her chair.

Dinner was superb, and the wine flowed freely, an area towards the front of the room cleared, and the music started. The lights lowered so only the floating Jack O Lanterns and candles lit the room. The dance floor filled up quickly with various couples, and Hermione’s foot started tapping.

“Dance with me?” he asked, his voice flowed over her like rich, potent firewhisky, it made her feel just as drunk as Hermione placed her hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor. His hand was warm and dry, slight callouses from years of wand use that Hermione could imagine lightly scratching over her body. She had no doubt her silk knickers were soaked with her arousal.

The feeling of his body brushing against hers as they danced was pure torture, and by the wicked smirk gracing those luscious lips, he was well aware of her problem.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear. Taking her hand, he led her out of the ballroom and along a dark, narrow corridor. The only sounds his footsteps and the clack of Hermione’s heels. They’d not gone far before he pulled her to a stop and pushed her into the alcove, backing her into the wall. At Hermione’s gasp at the long thick bulge intimately pressed between her thighs, he took full advantage and swooped in for a passionate kiss. Her high heels brought her closer to his impressive height. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Hermione tugged him closer.

His velvety soft tongue stroked along hers; he tasted of firewhisky and coffee, wicked promises and lust. Hermione couldn’t hold in her moan of arousal as they teased each other. His arousal wedged between her thighs, it sent her passion skyrocketing. Pulling her mouth from his, Hermione gasped, desperately in need of air.

“Is this what you want my little Gryffindor Princess?” he asked, his voice lust rough as he ground his pelvis into hers “Fucked up against the wall in a corridor?” Hermione couldn’t hold in her moan at the vivid images his rough language conjured.

“No,” was all Hermione could manage on a throaty gasp as he thrust against her, nipping on her neck and driving her mad. The layers of their clothing were too much as Hermione slipped her hand between them and stroked him. His hips are stuttering at her touch, and a low growl echoed around their little nook.

“No?” he repeated confused as her body was telling him something different. “You want me to stop?” he pulled back so he could see her face. Even in the dim light, he could see the lust shining brightly in her eyes.

“No,” she repeated grabbing his labels and pulling him in for a rough, quick kiss. “I don’t want you to fuck me up against a wall Zabini; I want you to fuck me in the Slytherin dorms, preferably on your old bed.”

That wicked smirk as he realised just want she wanted has a flood of dew dampening Hermione’s knickers, even more; they would be ruined at this rate.

“I think that can be arranged Mrs Granger-Weasley.”

She imagined that this is what the couples she caught all those years of prefect duty were doing. Merlin did she ever regret breaking them apart because this felt _amazing_. By the time they reached the door to the Slytherin common room, Blaise had pushed her into more alcoves and against more walls than she could count.

She was drawn from her daze when Blaise whispered “Pila pythonis.”

Hermione snorted “Ball python, how original.”

“Well, we _were_ eleven-year-old boys.” Blaise just smirked at her and shrugged, as if that explained everything. It probably did.

“I’d rather see your ball python,” Hermione purred, stroking him through his trousers, loving the hitch in his breathing at her bold touch. Under the delicate fabric of his pants, Hermione could feel his cock twitch in interest as she boldly trailed her nails along his impressive length.

“I need to see you,” Hermione hummed, easily unfastening his trousers and pushing them off his narrow hips, they fell to the floor with a clatter from his belt buckle. Not caring about his beautiful expensive suit Hermione pushed his jacket off his shoulders and let it flutter to the floor. Standing there in a pristine white dress shirt and black boxers, he was sin on legs.

Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Hermione smirked at him and ripped it open, buttons zinging around the room. She spread her hands over his chest, he felt like warm, dark marble. Her pale hands a stark contrast to his darker skin tone.

Her demanding nature ramped Blaise’s lust higher; he loved a woman who knows what, and who, she wanted. Tonight, thank Merlin, it was him she wanted. Backing her into the posts of his old four-poster bed, she gasped at his roughness, clearly by the lust flaring in her eyes, it was turning her on too.

Reaching up under her evening gown, he teasingly ran his fingers up her thigh, over her hip and gripped the thin straps holding that tiny scrap together, and with a sharp tug, snapped the silk, letting it fall to the floor. At her shocked gasp, he figured they were probably expensive; he swooped in. Claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss as he slid his hand up her inner thigh and lightly stroked her wet curls. Catching her dew on his fingers, he smeared it over her clit, swallowing her moan of arousal. The feel of a wanton witch, twitching in arousal under his touch was making his boxers far tighter than was comfortable so, hooking his fingers in the elastic, he let them fall to the floor, kicking them to the side.

“Stop teasing Zabini,” Hermione’s frustration was making her snappy, her arousal climbing higher and higher with his teasing fingers and soul-destroying kisses.

“What do you want _Mrs_ Granger-Weasley?” he demanded sharply, emphasising her marital status.

“What I want _Mr_ Zabini is for you to _fuck_ me.” with no warning Blaise stepped forward, grabbed her under the bum and hoisted Hermione into his arms. Hermione would deny her girlish squeal with her last breath as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Lining himself up at her entrance, Blaise slid into her warmth, making them both gasp. Giving her a cheeky smirk, he gripped her tighter and started to thrust, quickly finding a rhythm that had them both gasping and moaning from the pleasure.

He was larger than Ron, who wasn’t small either, so that first delicious stretch had Hermione moaning. Digging her fingernails into his shoulders, to his delight, as he thrust harder, crushing Hermione between the bedpost and himself. Hermione felt a small smile tug her lips as she remembered something her mother used to say about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Right now there was nowhere else Hermione would rather be.

The old bed shook and rattled, as Blaise fucked her against it. It was rough, brutal, and fantastic. Their moans and grunts echoed around the small room, the slap of skin on skin and cries of _harder_. Hermione could feel his shoulders flex under her hands and his arse under her ankles as he slammed into her, using all the strength in his body to please them.

“Blaise, I’m close,” Hermione whined, her muscles clamping around him, “Please Blaise, I need to come,” she was so close.

“Do you now my little lion?” Blaise murmured, subtly changing the angle of his thrusts and sending Hermione over the edge with a scream. Collapsing against him Hermione could only hang on as Blaise chased his release, which didn’t take too long. His hips stuttering as he called out his pleasure, flooding her.

Carefully letting her legs drop to the floor Blaise gripped Hermione by the waist, holding her steady as she regained her balance in her high heels. Smirking she took in his nakedness as she pulled her dress up from where it had slipped down.

“I really don’t think I could have handled you at seventeen Blaise,” Hermione admitted, cupping his cheek and smiling. “But thank you for fulfilling my childhood fantasy.”

Giving him a light pat on the cheek she strode from the dorm room, never looking back, leaving Blaise standing there bare arsed naked. He couldn’t prevent his bark of laughter at her cheek as the door shut behind her.

“No Granger, I doubt you could have.” A smile tugged at his lips as he scooped his clothes up off the floor and, shaking the dust off them, re-dressed.


End file.
